Word Count: 1,133
​Warning: Got side-tracked and wrote this one-shot/drabble on a whim. I apologize for those that might be hurt or offended by this, I don't normally write angst but it just came out of my fingers.

It was a moment of weakness.

"Jongdae.."

There is a look of terror in her eyes. A man of small frame looks closely at his hands, every inch of it in blood. What stops first in unknown, some say that she stops breathing while others say the man's mind faulters. It matters not though. He looks up from her body and takes in the hell in front of him.

His hometown, a small coastal city in South Korea, is in the midst of war.

It is a rampart madness everywhere he can see. Corpses litter the streets in insurmountable numbers, those that are still alive are mere shells of what they once were. There are no soliders, there are no enemies, there is only the fragments of a giant bomb that bears the insignia of the North. Their Northern brothers, the country where Jongdae himself might have family, North Korea. The bomb strike is not something that was planned, it was an unprovoked strike, a cowardice tactic that's plan relies on the fear that follows. Because of that bomb, Jongdae is forced to drive a makeshift knife into his own mother's heart.

"Umma.." the voice muffles, trying to force its way out from the crying, "wake up.."

His father is the first to die; sacrificing his own body to shield his wife from the falling debris of their house. Whether it is his blood, or her own, on her body matters not. The descent of madness takes place. Her shock leads her to pick up a wayward knife and turn to her sons. Jongdae's brother is the next to die. All that she can say is, "I'll protect you", as she takes the life of his older brother.

"Umma.." the voice trembles, the reality of the situation sets in, "I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry.."

What seems like an eternity passes. Jongdae unmoving from the ruins of his home, huddles in a safe corner in what was his room. Holding onto a teddy bear that his brother won for him, he clutches onto it as if it were the last thing left in his world. All the screaming and noises of panic eventually dissipate. There is no thought to leave because there are no thoughts left in him. All he can see, all he can hear is the events that led to the death of his family.

But something compels him to leave.

It might have been a day, it might have been a few more, but for the first time in quite some time, Jongdae hears noises in his home. While near death, the thought of his family, or at the very least, one of them, might have not died at all propels him down the stairs at an unhuman pace. Hope in itself is essential to live, but hope is not a definite thing. It is a powerful tool that stradles the line of truth and fiction. Though that is the tool that allows Jongdae to walk into the living room and face someone that is neither his family nor a friend.

"What is your name?" the man wears army fatigues, but not from this country.

All the fear and anxiety bubble over in this new terror and Jongdae tries to run back into his room. Still clutching his teddy bear, he makes a mad dash towards the stairs. Not even five steps later that the exhaustion takes him.

The solider, watching in sympathic contempt, walks towards the fallen man but doesn't get too close. "I will not hurt you," the man takes off his helmet and sits a good distance away, "what is your name?"

Jongdae slowly sits up and stares at the solider, still wary. "My name..?" he speaks in a tired drawl, "Jongdae..? No..?"

"Yixing," the man offers his name and reaches into his bag for some bread and a water canteen, "here, Jongdae, you need this."

Though he nerver once searches for food or water before, his survival instincts kick in and quickly reaches for the food. The solid food and wet liquid are very much welcomed in his body as he engorges on whatever is left of the offering. There is a moment of silence that allows the nutrients to nourish the neglected parts of Jongdae's body. His mind, still weak, recovers enough to make sense of the situation, "Thank you.." he begins to form a regular speech pattern, "what.. what was your name?"

Yixing cautiously moves in a little closer, only quickening his pace when he feels that Jongdae will allow it, and wraps a blanket around him, "My name is Yixing. I come from China and I'm here to help you."

"Yixing..?" his voice somewhat reverts back to the drawl, "China..? Why is China here?"

There's is an undeliberate pause. The solider glances over to the corpses that lay not too far from them and closes his eyes. "I can't say right now. More important is that I get you out of here."

The fear and anxiety immediately kicks back in, "N-no!" Jongdae thrashes and backs himself to the wall, the momentum of stress leads to an overture of long-withheld tears. "My family is here.. I can't leave them."

It may be guilt, it may not be, but a similar feeling takes Yixing and guides him to embrace the stranger. "Jongdae.. the dead will leave you even if you stay. You're all alo.." he pauses and starts to Jongdae's hair, "but you're not alone."

He knew, he always knew, but hearing him tell him that his family is never coming back overwhelms him.

Yixing allows him to cry. He does not move nor say anything else; he understands that the best thing is for him to grieve. The moment continues for about five minutes longer, just enough time for all the tears to stop. "Come," he raises to his feet, holding onto Jongdae as his support, "I'll take you somewhere safe."

Jongdae, eyes red and worn out, looks but doesn't look at his family and his home for a few moments. The memories are still there, plenty of happy times with a lot of love and laughter; something he will always cherish. But he comes to the painful realization that there's nothing left for him here anymore. Jongdae is alive, Jongdae survived, and Jongdae will move on. So with a weak breath, he clutches the teddy bear closer to his heart, "Okay.. I'll go with you."

A smile escapes from Yixing and he helps Jongdae gather the necessities that he can carry in his backpack. Without looking back, they leave. It's a quiet walk through the ruins of this once beautiful coastal town, with the only noise is a familiar dogtag with a crossed out insignia of the North swinging from the solider's neck. 

I really like the premise of this. I might continue and make it a series, maybe, but eh, maybe. Anyways, thank you for reading and as always comments and critiques are always welcomed!